the stacks—not to mention all that had led up to it—had drained her. The weight of it was recognizable to Rami, the discovery and immediate loss of family she hadn’t even known she’d had. Claire looked drawn, but she was waiting for an answer. Rami nodded. “I have to. He needs to enter Heaven before he risks corruption.”
Leto hovered near the couch, not seeming to know where to put himself without touching anything. He furrowed his brow at Rami. “I feel fine. Surely I can stay and help—”
“No.” Rami was firm on that point. “However, after Leto’s processed . . . I would like permission to return.”
Surprise startled the grief from Claire’s face momentarily. “Return?”
“To the Library. I should . . . I would like . . .” Rami was confounded by his own words. To like, to want anything. To seek anything beyond forgiveness was something he hadn’t been faced with in many, many years. It felt weightless, and terrifying. There had been a time when he’d still had the right to wings; he hadn’t always been earthbound. The memory came to him unbidden, that breath in flight, when you’ve stepped off solid ground and your mind hasn’t quite made up whether you want to fly or follow your shadow to the ground. He abruptly wanted to cry, but he grunted instead. “I would like to return to . . . discuss. How I can help.”
Claire’s brows remained a few inches too high, but some humor gleamed in her dark eyes as she considered. “Return, and we’ll see what happens.
“Brevity,” she called over her shoulder as she drew herself up from the couch. “Come say your good-byes to Leto.”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Leto sulked, his eyes on his feet as Brevity approached him. His cheeks were pink as he glanced at her teary face. “Ah, c’mon. It’s not like I’m dying . . . again.”
“That place better treat you good.” Brevity sniffed, and it was obvious it took great effort not to swing her arms around his neck in a hug. “If not, you just go ahead and damn yourself all over again.”
“That’s . . . that’s not how it works,” Rami muttered, mostly to remove the pained grimace from Claire’s face.
Leto just flushed. “You’re going to be a great librarian someday, Brev. The best.”
“You bet.” Brevity rubbed a tear off her cheek. “The Library will always have a place for you.”
“Only if he remembers how to brew a proper pot of tea.” Claire made a face as she hobbled over. Injury or not, her limp was more pronounced as her energy flagged.
“I’ll practice in Heaven,” Leto said. “You’ll tell Hero I said . . . bye?”
“I’ll improvise on that with a little more eloquence, but sure.”
Leto drifted for a hug, but caught himself when Rami shook his head. Leto let out a long sigh and rubbed his neck. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Still calling me ma’am.” Claire drew herself up, voice aloof and eyes wet. “I give up. Rami, get the kid out of here before I decide to keep him.”
“You heard the lady.” Rami squeezed Leto’s shoulder.
“I mean it. Thank you. I was . . . The Library saved—”
“You saved yourself. You write your own story here.” Something crumbled, just enough for Claire to wrap her arms around herself, as if making sure they didn’t do anything they weren’t supposed to do. She smiled. “I’m . . . I’m glad I got to meet you, Leto. Go. Be good. No—be better than good: be happy.”
42
CLAIRE
Here is how you make a sheet of parchment: Soak a pelt in a scouring bath until it softens. Scrape the hair off. Treat the skin with astringent tannic acids. Rack and torture until tight.
And here’s how you make a story: Soak a life in mortality. Scrape the soul.
Librarian Gregor Henry, 1899 CE
FOR THE SECOND TIME in as many days, Claire sat down and began to repair the binding of Hero’s book.
His was not the only book to be repaired. Claire kept her eyes pinned on the tattered binding in front of her, but she could nearly hear the hurts of the hundreds of torn, crushed, burned unwritten works around her. The books trodden underfoot by Horrors, the carpets with holes eaten by acid, the paintings torn by raven blades.
Claire didn’t see books; she saw graves.
She saw a thousand lives on each cindered page. Here, a band of adventurers, suffocating in a forest. There, a pair of lovers, entombed in the